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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26518600">Winter Morning</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffeebookboy/pseuds/Coffeebookboy'>Coffeebookboy</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, WIP, post wotl, very very soft</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 04:06:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26518600</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coffeebookboy/pseuds/Coffeebookboy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>To a layman (or Will), the devil dressed in an angel’s skin. Enticing, enchanting, altogether sickening. Yes, he did resemble those sculptures kept behind red barriers and locked in vaults. It felt an honour to gaze upon him for longer than a minute. To be a witness to his vulnerability in all its glory. The artist became the muse.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>32</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Winter Morning</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is a wip i'm just getting out there. enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The gentle golden warmth that usually greeted Will in the morning was something he had become dangerously used to. No matter how cold and empty his dreams made him feel, those fuzzy mornings always made his heartbeat steady. Never failed to make his stomach drain of anxiety and fill with soothing affectionate butterflies. Carnivorous monarchs seemingly ceased their gnawing at his empty stomach in mock hunger. They instead took to landing on the lining and fluttering their wings at a gentle pace. Their tiny feet tickling him in a way that used to make him dig his fingernails into his palms. </p><p> </p><p>Will opened his eyes, half expecting to be blinded. He noticed the room was still quite dark. He remembered vaguely that they had bought new curtains. He could feel his lover’s arms, heavy and still. One tucked under his neck where he could press his nose closer and feel the soft skin, the other draped over his middle where it belonged. The weight of it was holding the butterflies inside, suffocating the little beasties until they seemingly crumbled to dust. And all there was, was the both of them. Elegantly tangled. Safe. Complete trust. They had worked so hard to break down each other’s walls and now could hardly remember what it had felt to be anything but part of a whole. And that worked for them. Will suddenly felt his heart swell and he knew he couldn’t bear another moment without looking upon his lover’s face. He turned slowly, trying his best to not disturb another’s dreams. He knew they were no doubt more pleasant than his own before he saw the smile.</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal’s face was assembled with that effortless detail one might find at the Louvre. His features were perfectly sharp; as if carved from marble over countless hours, days, and years by arduous labor and experience. And yet his skin was softer than down, his lashes delicate and long, his lips shapely and inviting. To a patron of the arts, a show of skill from some higher power. To a layman (or Will), the devil dressed in an angel’s skin. Enticing, enchanting, altogether sickening. Yes, he did resemble those sculptures kept behind red barriers and locked in vaults. It felt an honour to gaze upon him for longer than a minute. To be a witness to his vulnerability in all its glory. The artist became the muse.</p><p> </p><p>Will ran a hand through Hannibal’s hair, sighing in contentment. He pressed his lips to Hannibal’s and then to his eyelid, feather-light. Hannibal’s eyes danced behind his eyelids and with a deep inhale, was awake. He didn’t open his eyes yet but his lips curving up at the corners gave him away. The lamb pressed the third kiss to his skin, this one into the divot where his neck met his shoulder.</p><p> </p><p>“Good morning.”</p><p> </p><p>Will’s voice was hushed, rough, and beautiful.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t need to open your eyes. I’d like to lay here awhile.”</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal hummed in agreement.</p><p> </p><p>Minutes ticked by in silence and he enjoyed running his thumb over the same circle on Will’s ribs. A delicate area. He could feel a scar there and he wondered if this one was from him or a fishhook. He thought he should remember such things. Eventually, Will spoke again, proving he hadn’t fallen asleep again as Hannibal hoped. “Those curtains were a good investment.”</p><p> </p><p>Hannibal finally spoke, clearing his throat. “Only for winter, Will. But I agree. I do often make good investments.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re talking about me?”</p><p> </p><p>“Among other things.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course.”</p><p> </p><p>More silence. It was comfortable. The house was quiet and Hannibal needed to only breathe in to know it must have snowed outside. The air was chilly and his arm that wasn’t underneath Will was beginning to get goosebumps.</p><p> </p><p>“Would you like me to go start the fire?” He offered, secretly hoping Will might say that they could stay in bed all day.</p><p> </p><p>“No, I’ll get to it. In a minute.”</p><p> </p><p>They were both content.</p>
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